


Alone

by Natasha_Rostova



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Wanda reflects, clint is a dad, kinda angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha_Rostova/pseuds/Natasha_Rostova
Summary: The first night without Pietro was the hardest.





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short drabble about returning the Avengers tower after Age of Ultron, it’s kinda angsty so just a heads up.

The first night was the hardest. They would not return to Avengers tower until late that night, or was it early the next day? Time seemed to elude Wanda. The quintet was quiet, and there was no brother complaining about the slow moving clock. Therefore it didn’t seem to matter what time it was anymore. What did time mean to Wanda if there was no one to pass it with. The Captain spoke to her first.

“You’re very brave.” Wanda could not find the energy to lift her head. “You stepped up when it mattered the most.” Her boots were stained with dust. “You helped us save millions of lives up there.” Not enough. “You did good.” He placed a well meaning hand on her shoulder. She tensed into the gesture. 

No one else spoke to her on the ride back to the tower.

Mr. Stark lead her to a guest room on the 60th floor, told her she could stay as long as she liked. She was an Avenger after all. Wanda couldn’t say anything in return. 

The room was dark, lit only by the New York lights sneaking through the window. The city was so vast. Pietro would have liked New York, with its sparking lights and its fast moving people. With a flick of her wrist the blinds are closed. Wanda does not look at the city again for weeks.

Stark must have set up temporary clothing for her, as a clean set of pajamas rest on the oak dresser. They’re a deep blue. Wanda doesn’t change. 

The bed is too large. Too soft. Everything is too unfamiliar. Sitting on the bed Wanda can hear everyone’s thoughts like white noise. A sickening buzzing at the back of her head. It sounds like nothing and everything and there is no one to hold her. 

Somehow she makes her way to the bathroom, blank eyes staring in the mirror. Her blinks are long and slow, yet she can’t seem to sleep. Or cry. Wanda stares into her reflection and tries to make tears fall, perhaps it would help ease her grief. Yet no tears come. Somehow she feels worse. She doesn’t clean the dust from her face before returning to the bed. 

Wanda rests against the headboard, surrounded by too many pillows. Too many pillows for one person. Too big of a room for only one person. They had always shared a room. For Pietro was the only one who could calm Wanda’s nightmares. How was she supposed to sleep now? 

She feels the presence of another mind before her door is even open. It’s Barton. 

“Hey kiddo.” He whispers. Wanda does not meet his gaze. “Thought you might like some company. Long day huh.” He moves to sit next to her. He allows her room to think, sitting beside her, with a space between their shoulders. 

To Wanda it seems he sits there for an eternity. Silent, yet present. There is something about his presence that soothes her. Maybe it was his brushes with Pietro. Maybe it was just his paternal instinct. Whatever it was, soon enough Wanda finds warm tears running down her cheeks. And in her grief there is no power. No magic. There is nothing. And she is alone. 

Before she can comprehend, Barton has an arm wrapped around her shoulder. It’s small. It’s gentle. It’s kind. And Wanda sobs.


End file.
